Let me die,
Bleed out or succumb to plague,
Do not mourn for me,
Scatter me and my memories to obscurity.
Forgive me if you must,
But certainly forget me,
Reduce me to naught but ash,
Do not start a tears life in my stead.
I shall not mourn the passing of this world,
It is and was nothing to me.
I am a monster,
My life is a monster,
It’s an abomination,
A terrible abhorrent thing,
Crafted by unseen hands.
It’s made up of countless parts,
Taken and pried from all over,
Stolen and dug up,
Created and fashioned,
Built and summoned.
The skin is scaly and furry both,
Parts of this beast are grim,
While others are joyful,
Run your hand across its form,
And you will feel all of lifes challenges and opportunities.
There are fangs of bittersweet love,
Talons of rage unyielding,
Tentacles of greed,
Reptilian eyes of malicious intent,
A forked tongue of deceit.
Soft fur of contentment,
Muscles of physical potential,
A mane of experience,
A pulsing heart of childhood memories,
A sirens voice.
Like a puzzle of mismatched pieces,
Forced together,
A chimera,
A beast of many elements,
A creature built by each of us.
My life is a creature,
All of our lives are creatures.
My life,
Hardship, always for me.
Gratitude, always for another.
Restriction, always for me.
Freedom, always for another.
Obscurity, always for me.
Fame, always for another.
Envy, always for me.
Love, always for another.
Unsightliness, always for me.
Life, always for another.
A woman,
A shrewd lady,
Fair of heart and strong of mind,
Mighty conviction and elegant features.
A loving wife and a better mother.
Torn in three by her three hearts,
Her three secrets,
Her dark trinity.
One heart for her faith,
Intolerant and genocidal as it is.
Her church preaches nothing but hate,
Her holy book preaches distorted lies,
Her priest preaches nothing but rancor.
But she is a pious woman,
She loves her faith.
One heart for her hidden addiction,
Her adoration for absinthe and the needle.
It alleviates the stress of a hard family life.
The absinthe helps her sleep,
The narcotics free her mind,
It lessens the mental trauma,
She loves her hidden addiction.
And one heart for her paramour,
She’s a secret adulteress you know,
Her husband doesn’t truly perform,
He doesn’t satisfy,
Her lover is everything she ever wished for,
He’s caring, sensual and vigorous,
Everything her husband is not.
She loves her paramour.
These three hearts would be a betrayal to anyone else,
They’d be considered sins,
She’d be a bigot, addict and a whore,
But they are what she needs to live,
They get her through the day,
They keep her living and breathing.
Her three hearts beat in secret,
So she can live.
